


Blood will tell

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2018 [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: (no knowledge required), (there is loads of exposition), Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Beheading, Blood, Blood Drinking, Case Fic, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, October Daye fusion, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Sir Tim was working a case when he met an unusual Cait Sidhe changeling. Together they must find out who was stealing Gotham's children... and how to survive the aftermath.





	Blood will tell

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTim week day 8: Urban Fantasy // Blood Oath. 
> 
> Because it was all I could think about when I read those two prompts, this is based on the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire which I genuinely recommend to basically everyone. The plot has no similarity to this one, but there are two spoilers in this, one of which is rather major. I’m not saying which one, as you’ll likely only notice once you’ve read that part in the books itself. 
> 
> Pronounciations (taken from the October Daye Wiki, which in turns takes it from the books):
> 
> Coblynau: cob-lee-now  
> Daoine Sidhe: doon-ya shee  
> Dochas Sidhe: doe-sh-as she  
> Tuatha de Dannan: tootha day danan

Someone was stealing Gotham’s children. 

At first, Tim had thought that Blind Michael was riding again, but it couldn’t be. 

So he had gone to investigate, and now, he was standing in front of the Fhearraigh’s house. They were a lovely family of Coblynau, utterly uninvolved in faerie’s politics and desperate to have their four-year-old back. That’s why they let him; let him see their daughter’s room and smell the air. 

The despair in that house had been palpable. Tim could still feel it clinging to him. 

He took a deep breath. The scent he’d found inside was out here, too, faint but clear: decayed roses, and a bit of wood underneath that. No candle wax. Tim had breathed a sigh of relief despite himself. Going up against Blind Michael was on his to-do list, but he would not mind at all postponing that until he was better prepared. 

There was something else mixing in now, though - cinnamon and oleander, and Tim turned to see someone standing in the gates and watching him. 

At first, Tim thought it was human. Coblynau were excellent at protective illusions, the best in all of faerie, but maybe even those had failed in their grief. 

Tim quickly checked his own glamour before walking towards the figure. Yes, still in place. Thank Oberon, he didn’t need the headache that always came with putting it on. 

From up close, the man still looked mostly human. His ears were round, his cheekbones blunt, and he was tall and broad in a way few of the Sidhe were. 

His eyes, though. No human had those eyes. 

“May I help you?” Tim asked politely. 

The man grinned at him, exposing cat-like canines. A Cait Sidhe changeling, then. And it didn’t look at all friendly. “Coming to see what your Firstborns are doing to this city now? I’m surprised. I thought Sidhe purebloods were happy to let him do his thing as long as it wasn’t their kids that were taken.” 

Well, that conversation was off to a great start, wasn’t it? Tim wasn’t surprised. Many changelings distrusted and disliked purebloods. And usually, Tim had to admit, they had good reasons for it. Faerie wasn’t kind to its half-human children. So he chose to ignore the attitude and asked: “Do you know who did this, then?” 

“What are you talking about? Blind Michael is riding again.” 

Tim shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

The changeling spat on the ground. “Human children are vanishing, too, and changelings. Not that you care, but that means it’s Blind Michael.” 

A reasonable conclusion, Tim was forced to concede, but: “Blind Michael rode on the West Coast three years ago. He is bound to his lands for another four.” 

The changeling took that in. “Fuck, so we got another nutcase on our hands? And by the way, what a great solution. Let’s just lock the asshat who kidnaps our children away so he can only do it every seven years. He’ll pass the time by torturing his victims. Sounds great.” 

“He _is_ a Firstborn,” Tim felt compelled to point out. None of the fae messed with their Firsts easily or without consequences. 

“One who turns fae children into hunters and human children into horses. Besides, you _do_ realise this is likely the handiwork of a Firstborn, too, don’t you? Or at least very high up the Queen’s ass.” 

“I have been forbidden to investigate this case,” Tim admitted. “Even though a child of a lesser Lord was also taken.” 

“So we’re fucked.” 

“Whoever did this is taking a lot of precautions to hide their tracks. It seems reasonable that they have long-term plans for them, allowing me to rescue them.” 

“You’re a bit late for that,” the changeling told him bitterly, “they killed the fae mother of two changelings when she stood in their way.” 

Tim knew it was wrong to become excited at that, but. There were possibilities there. “Did it just happen?” 

The changeling looked weary (wearier) all of a sudden. “Yes.” 

“Can you tell me where to find her?” 

Tim was aware of being close scrutinised. Luckily, the changeling got it right away. “Daoine Sidhe, are you?” 

“Yes. I might be able to find something out from her.” Or rather, from her blood, Tim thought but didn’t say out loud. Daoine Sidhe were famous for being to able to read the blood as well as their illusions. It just so happened that Tim was a lot better at the former than the latter. 

“I’ll bring you to her. They might not let you in otherwise. Follow me.” 

 

Tim had been amused at the idea that this changeling would be able to ‘get him in’ anywhere unless it was the Court of Shadows, which was traditionally more welcoming to its own changelings than any of the other Sidhe. Still, he humoured the changeling by following him obediently. 

It turned out to be a good decision, for the changeling led him to a small, nondescript house. The sign on top of the door, invisible to human eyes, read “Home”. 

Tim had heard rumours of this place. An orphanage for changelings trying to make their own way, alienated from their fae parent but unable to leave the world of faerie completely. 

(In Gotham, faerie never quite let you go. It was the kelpie waiting for you at the park, the pixies in the produce aisle, the pointy ears on that sex worker you exchanged greetings with every night. It was staring into the night and the night staring back at you.) 

As soon as they opened the door, two changelings, one Daoine, one Tuatha de Dannan and something else, greeted them with their weapon raised. Tim didn’t move. He could defend himself well enough if it came to that. No need to escalate the situation further. 

Anyway, the two relaxed as soon as she saw who was accompanying him. One said: “Jason. Did you find anything?” 

The changeling he’d met first - Jason, apparently - shrugged. “No, but he,” he pointed at Tim, “might. We need to see Lil.” 

She clenched her jar. For a second, Tim felt pity. Being part Daoine Sidhe, she had probably already tried riding the blood and not found much. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that it was a quirk of their blood, but he was sure she would take it the wrong way, so he chose silence. 

“Artemis,” Jason said. “It’s not Blind Michael. We’ll be able to avenge her.” 

She nodded and stepped aside. “I want a piece of whoever did this.” 

“You’ll get it one way or another,” Jason promised. Then he waved Tim in as if he was the lord of a manor and Tim the servant. “Alright, let’s get a move on. She’s through here.” 

He led Tim to a small room. 

A little changeling girl was sitting in there, silent tears rolling down her face. She looked in shock. 

Tim breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the body lying on the bed next to her. Her ears were still pointy, her beauty otherworldly, her skin a deep green - the Nighthaunts hadn’t visited yet. 

(Tim knew they were a necessary part of faerie, as a fae body would not decompose and thus leave them vulnerable to discovery by the humans. It was just fucking creepy that these creatures came as soon as a body was left alone and ate them. He also couldn’t do his job once they’d visited. The corpse they left behind looked like a human version of the deceased, but it had no soul left, nothing there for him to read in its blood.) 

“Sally, could you leave us for a moment,” Jason requested, gently ushering the girl out of the room. 

That was a good idea. People didn’t react well to Tim doing his job at the best of days. A heavily traumatised and grieving child was no audience for him. 

Jason, however, came back immediately, leaning against the wall in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t going to leave or turn away. Well, that was his call and not Tim’s problem, Tim thought a bit spitefully. 

He winced when he saw the discolourations on her throat. “She was strangled?” 

“Yes. Her children cried out and we were just seconds too late. Whoever did this broke her larynx.” Jason’s calm voice couldn’t entirely hide the pain bleeding through. 

“I’m going to have to give her a small cut.” Tim pulled out a small knife he carried just for this purpose. Not every death left blood easily accessible. 

“Just do it somewhere her daughters won’t immediately see.” 

Tim nodded and pulled up her sleeve so he could reach the underside of her upper arm. A quick cut didn’t make the blood well up (she was dead, after all), but Tim didn’t need more. He lowered his mouth to the wound and closed his eyes. 

_Terror. Sheer terror. He’s coming what’s happening what is he doing here how did he get in help help help **my children** _

Tim forced himself to ride it out. Slowly, images were added to the feeling. 

_Red hair round face hands around my neck choking can’t breathe my children my children can’t breathe something will give-_

Tim tore himself away. It was dangerous, riding the blood like this. If he didn’t tear himself away before the person died… it didn’t bear contemplating. “It was Anton Schott,” he gasped, opening his eyes to see that Jason had moved closer instead of away. “She saw him clearly, no doubt about it.”

Tim _had_ heard rumours that the Daoine Sidhe Lord had become even more unhinged as the decades passed, and the recent passing of his father Winslow likely did not help. He just hadn’t realised it had become that bad. Anton was rather low on his list to investigate, because why would he be kidnapping children?

It looked like he would have to find out, and soon. 

Jason smiled. It looked dangerous. “Great. I know who to beat up, then.” 

Tim suddenly became away he must still have blood on his lips and his teeth. Jason hadn’t commented on it, but he licked over them self-consciously anyway. “You shouldn’t become involved in this. As you said, this is a pureblood quote ‘high up the Queen’s ass’ unquote.” 

“Look, you - no, wait,” Jason interrupted his own argument, “who even are you?” 

“Tim.” 

Jason still looked expectant, so he sighed and added: “Sir Timothy Drake.” 

“You’re a knight, then?” 

“I trained with Lord Bruce Wayne of Nightlake.” 

“And spent some time in the human world. You don’t sound as archaic as your lot usually does.”

“I did, yes, but how is that relevant?” 

Jason sighed, for all the world like Tim was a rather slow child. It was pretty hilarious, considering he couldn’t be older than half a century at most and Tim had been born in the Renaissance. “I’m going to go find Lil’s killer either way,” Jason explained patiently, “and I _will_ find those children. Now, I figure you will do the same. Two people trying to steal into a Knowe separately are much more like to be caught than two people at least mildly cooperating.” 

Tim considered it. He had no idea how Jason would hold himself up in the field. He talked big, sure, but it was risky, taking a potentially weak changeling along to challenge one of the oldest fae in Gotham. On the other hand, after weeks of being denied any help from the Court and its Lord and Ladies, it would be nice to have someone working with him for once. 

“Fine.” 

“Cool, good to have that cleared up. Do you know where the entrance to Schott’s Knowe is, by the way?” 

Tim shook his head. “No, but I know who does.” Fishing out his cell phone from his pocket, he selected the number on top of his contact list. Thank Oberon that Bruce had overridden all of faerie’s conventions and managed to install a phone line to his Knowe. Cell reception there was still shit, but at least Tim could call him now. (He was still working on Internet access.) 

“Hello, it’s Tim. Yes, I think you’re demon spawn, too,” he told the person on the other line cheerfully. “I still need to talk to Bruce. It’s important. Yes, sure, take your time.” 

Jason’s expression was both amused and curious. Tim rolled his eyes and covered the receiver to whisper, “Damian, Bruce’s son and pain in Oberon’s ass.” 

When he heard another voice speak, he quickly said out loud: “Hello, my liege, I need to know the entrance to Anton Schott’s Knowe. It’s called Bitterstern. Yes, I do. Alright. You might want to send the cavalry there if you can get one together. No, I won’t promise that.”

He hung up and looked at Jason. “The entrance to the Knowe is by the Harvey Dent Memorial.” 

Jason grimaced. “That’s on the other side of Gotham.” 

“Can you walk us through the Shadows?” Tim asked, referring to the infamous way for cats and Cait Sidhe to travel.

“I cannot travel the Shadow Roads.” 

Tim nodded. It was always a gamble how strong a changeling’s ability was (some were almost completely human while others turned out enormously powerful, more so than their fae parent) and to what extend they could control them, but Jason was visibly mostly human. Tim was honestly surprised his Sight was as good as it was. 

“But I do know someone who can take us. Let’s call a taxi.” 

 

The taxi driver that picked them up was huge. For a second, Tim’s brain couldn’t comprehend how he even fit into the car. Then the illusion dispelled and the picture rearranged himself. It was a bridge troll. 

“Hey Bizarro,” Jason greeted him. 

“Red Him,” the troll answered in a friendly tone, “where to?”

“The Harvey Dent memorial. Or maybe about a block away from that, we’re being stealthy.” 

“Need Bizarro?” 

Tim watched Jason consider it, curious about what his decision would be. They could probably use some of the pure muscle a bridge troll could provide, not to mention their impenetrable skin. 

But Jason shook his head. “Nah, better not. You know the Court doesn’t want you in faerie.” 

“Would.” 

“I know.” 

It was times like these even Tim, who had grown up with it, kind of despised the fae convention of never saying ‘thank you’. Saying those words put the other person into an obligation that fae resented. 

He was also sure that Bizarro was using more magic than bridge trolls usually possessed to get them to the other side of the city within what felt like five minutes. And he still wouldn’t let them pay, despite Tim repeatedly offering. 

“Rescue children,” he told Tim as he opened the doors and waved them out. “I wait. Come back with them. Red Him, call if need.” 

“Will do, Bizarro,” Jason smiled. 

Tim had known him for all but three hours and he did not believe that promise at all, so he was sure Bizarro didn’t either, but the bridge troll let them go with a grunt. 

They walked the last hundred feet towards the monument on foot. Tim was using the quiet to go over everything he’d ever heard about Lord Anton Schott of Bitterstern. A recluse, no great relationship with his father, almost no friends, and he had a hobby… the memory made Tim stop in his tracks.

Jason eyed him. “Tim? You’re not looking so hot there, buddy.” 

“I just thought of something. A nickname I’ve heard floating around.” 

“What was it?” 

“The Dollmaker.” 

Tim watched the colour drain from Jason’s face as he swore. “Oh fuck. Oberon’s balls, that’s so _creepy_. Is it too much to ask that he just wants to give the dolls to children and see them play peacefully with it?” 

“It’s a nice thought?” Tim offered. 

“So mind-controlled doll children it is,” Jason sighed. “‘Cause the porcelain ones just aren’t creepy enough. This it?” 

“Through the right wall of the monument pedestal, Bruce said.” Tim carefully stretched out a hand. It passed through the wall. 

He stepped through, Jason right behind him, entering the Knowe. Passing through the wards was easy for Tim - Anton hadn’t strengthened them especially, it seemed - but he saw Jason grimace slightly. 

As soon as he caught Tim looking, he stopped and pointed at the hill that was now in front of them. “Let me guess. He lives in the abandoned-looking factory on top of the hill…” 

“…Making dolls,” Tim finished for him. “Welcome to your personal horror movie. Apart from the dramatics, it _does_ give him a good view of everyone approaching, though.” 

“Well, you can hide us, right?” Jason asked impatiently. 

“No.” 

“…No? Isn’t that what your lot _does_?” 

Tim shrugged. He was proud, but also very used to being teased about this weakness by his brothers, so whatever. He could admit to it. “You’ll notice my human disguise dropped as soon as we entered. If I can’t even make an glamour strong enough to survive those weak wards, how am I gonna cloak both of us?” 

“Oh yeah, I noticed,” Jason murmured. “You’re kinda… shiny.” 

“Shiny.” 

“Like. Glowing? In the moonlight?” Jason made a few gestures that Tim couldn’t interpret, then visibly gave up. “Just stay behind me, okay? I’m usually delighted to let someone with your healing factor take the hit, but it’ll be less conspicuous that way.” 

Tim snorted. “Sure.” This was ridiculous. They were wasting time. 

They started walking, keeping quiet as they got closer and closer. The lights were on in one room on the top floor, but Tim pointed Jason towards a door on the other side of the building. There was a huge padlock on it. 

Tim already was going for his lockpick, but Jason got there first, breaking the lock with the ease of practice. (Tim tried not to snicker as he thought about Jason being a ‘cat burglar’.) 

They waited for a minute, but there was no sound. Carefully Jason pushed the door open and they looked into the dark room. 

Jason’s excellent Sight must have been accompanied by the kind of night vision only fae possessed because he spotted the children just as quickly as Tim did and called out softly: “Lisa! Annie!” 

“Uncle Jason!” Two little shadows threw themselves at the changeling. Jason knelt down in front of them while Tim kept back. He could see more children behind them. The human ones didn’t need to be even more creeped out by his obviousness fae-ness. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed the two distraught kids as he hugged them close. “We’re here to free you all, don’t worry.” 

One of the little girls looked up with a tear stained face. “But mom… he…” 

“Shh,” Jason told her gently. “She wanted us to find you. And Sally is still waiting for you, right? Who else will take care of her?” 

They sniffed but nodded. 

Tim would have liked to have given them more time, he really would have. To talk to the other children, too, ask them if they were alright, reassure them they wouldn’t hurt them, wouldn’t leave anyone behind. 

But Anton Schott the Dollmaker had just entered the room. Jason wouldn’t have heard him with his changeling ears.

“Jason,” Tim warned. 

The lights flickered on. The children yelled in panic. 

“What a surprise, Sir Timothy,” the Dollmaker greeted him, then looked at Jason (who was standing again) and sneered: “and guest. Since I’m finding you in my workroom, I suppose this isn’t a purely social visit?” 

“It could be if you let these children return with us. I’m afraid I made their parents a promise.” 

The Dollmaker just grinned. “Attack them, my precious dolls.” 

The blank faces of the children turned toward Jason and Tim. Then they started moving in jarring unison. 

“How did my life turn into a goddamn horror movie?” Tim heard Jason mutter to himself. 

“Don’t hurt them,” was Tim’s only reply.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not stupid, thank you - ouch, that little shit bit me.” 

Truthfully, the children themselves weren’t exactly dangerous to the two of them. Jason was basically just holding them at a distance with his outstretched arms and Tim was dodging their every inexpert move. Tim was a lot more worried about the Dollmaker using the children against them in other ways. 

He seemed to realise that, too, because he ordered: “Stop moving, my children.” 

Immediately, the children halted in their tracks, standing as still as statues. 

The Dollmaker seemed to consider his point made, however. “Are you giving up?” he asked them. “You’re older than I prefer them, but I’m sure I can still make you into lovely puppets.” 

“Did you get all your lines straight from a horror movie?” Jason asked, sounding genuinely baffled. 

“I do not know what that is. Your human foibles are beneath me, changeling. Only when I have made you immortal are you worthy of my attention.”

Jason sighed dramatically. “Look, I don’t know what your issues are, and I don’t give a shit, but you need to stop now.” 

For a second, Tim was intensely annoyed. What in Oberon’s name was Jason doing, mouthing off to the person who could order these kids to harm themselves? 

Then Tim understood. 

Anton was a not a trained warrior and, honestly, not even all that bright. He wasn’t keeping his eyes on Tim as he argued with Jason. 

Jason was distracting him. 

Tim started inching away from Anton’s line of sight. Calling up an illusion to hide behind wasn’t beyond him, exactly, Lil’s blood had been a boost, but it might make Anton notice him. The children watched him move, but the disadvantage of mind-controlled allies was that they couldn’t speak up on their own and warn you about an enemy approaching from behind. 

“Faerie left me! No one cared for me!” the Dollmaker was complaining right now. 

“Yeah, mate, you’re talking to a changeling right now,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Excuse me while I grief for your abandonment in a mansion. You have an entire Knowe at your beck and call, dickwad. Why take children?” 

“They’re mine!” 

“Yeah, no. Still people.” 

“They’re my dolls! Mine!” 

Tim didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading. Jason tried to change it back, saying “Your father-“, but was interrupted.

“You want me to order them to kill themselves?” the Dollmaker screeched. “Fine! Children-“ 

But Tim’s hand closed over his mouth just in time, his other coming up to hold Anton’s arm behind his back.

He just barely managed to hold on. Behind him, the children were closing in, pulling at him. He wouldn’t be able to do this much longer - 

Then Jason was there at the Dollmaker’s throat. The smell of rotting roses and pine wood became overwhelming as blood splashed out in a high arc out of the Dollmaker’s neck onto Jason. 

The Dollmaker was dead. Tim could taste it in the air.

As both Jason and he took a step back, the body between them falling to the ground, he saw why. Fae usually were not killed that easily, but Jason was holding an iron knife in his hands. 

It would have burned Tim’s skin just to come near. But Jason was nearly human. He could touch it. 

Weirdly, he was now using it to stoop down and cut off a strand of the Dollmaker’s hair, tucking it into his pocket. As if sensing Tim’s stare, Jason explained: “For Artemis. She did want a piece. It’s not easy, staying behind.” 

“Uncle Jason?” Annie interrupted, stepping forward carefully. “Is… is the bad man dead?” 

Jason made a move towards her, then seemed to become conscious that he was covered in the Dollmaker’s blood. He stopped and just nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

“Can we go home now?” 

“Of course.” Jason looked around. “Just how many of you are there?” 

“Eighteen,” Tim answered for the child - he wasn’t even sure she was old enough yet to count that far. 

Jason sucked in a breath. “That’s more than I knew about.”

“Same here, but maybe the number will match our combined lists You take the changelings and I the purebloods?” Tim offered. 

Jason nodded, but added: “We will have to do something about the human children.” 

Tim nodded. “I have an idea. Nothing harmful,” he explained hastily at Jason’s sceptical look, “just a memory spell. Make them forget about faerie, you know? I’ll just need to talk to a friend about it first. Maybe we can bring them to your orphanage first? Let them sleep?” 

Jason took one look at the heap of children clinging to each other and agreed. “Alright. Let’s get them to the car. Bizarro will be thrilled.” 

 

“Alright, that was the last one,” Jason whispered, setting down a little Tuatha changeling that couldn’t be more than three years old. The toddler was already sleeping. 

Tim nodded in acknowledgement, quietly closing the book he’d been reading out loud to the children that had been clinging on to wakefulness. Jason had volunteered for washing and nappy changing duties, seeing how he really needed to clean the blood off himself, too. 

They looked at the heap of sleeping children for a long moment, then tiptoed outside. 

Once they were in the front room, Tim asked the one thing that was still bothering him: “Just out of curiosity. What _would_ you have done if it had been Blind Michael, after all?” 

Jason was silent for a moment, thinking. Probably considering whether to tell Tim. In the end, he did. “I heard rumours about travelling to his lands by candlelight.” 

“Interesting.” Tim filed that information away to consider later and offered up a piece of his own. Fair was fair, after all, and no fae liked feeling like they owed something. “I only know of the blood road.”

“Sounds dramatic.” 

“It does demand a life at its end, so yes. The traveller themselves or…” Tim left the implication hanging. “To kill a Firstborn, you need both iron and silver.” 

Jason nodded. They wouldn’t speak of it again, but Tim felt satisfied knowing that there was someone else who was preparing for the day Blind Michael returned to their coast. 

They parted, and Tim expected to never see Jason again. 

 

The Queen’s summon reached him three days later. He had finally stumbled home to his apartment in the city centre, only to be awoken after what felt like merely five minutes of sleep to the sound of knocking. 

“Go away.” 

A high, clear voice called: “A message from the Queen in the Mists.” 

Tim groaned. Great, the one person he really couldn’t ignore even on a day like this. “Give me a sec.” He stumbled towards the door and opened it. “Okay, what is it?” 

“Her Majesty summons you to a meeting of the Court at 10 p.m. today,” the royal page told him, disapproval clearly on her face, “to discuss the matter of the killing of Anton Schott, Lord of Bitterstern.” 

Tim’s eyes widened. “To discuss the what? And that’s in three hours!” 

As a rule, Fae were only active at night. Dawn robbed them of their power, and most of faerie’s inhabitants weren’t too happy to see the sun during the day, either. Setting a meeting at 10 p.m. was the fae equivalent of Monday morning at 8 a.m. in a human workplace.

The Queen must be in a nasty mood. 

“I will be there.” 

The page sneered. “I thought so.” With that, she left. 

 

The Queen’s Knowe, which held Court of the Mists whose territory included the city of Gotham, was located at the harbour. You had to jump right off one of the piers to reach the entrance. 

Tim privately suspected she only had selected that entrance because that way, the less favoured or pureblooded of her guests had to stand before her in wet clothes. He was lucky this time, but this did not put him at ease as he made his way towards the inner sanctum.

He hadn’t disregarded any direct orders when he went after Anton, but who knew what Royalty decided to find fault in? What worried him even more, however, was that he wasn’t even the most vulnerable target here. 

When he reached the entrance to the throne room, he straightened his spine and nodded to the guards. Time to face the music. 

“Sir Timothy Drake of Nightlake!” the herald announced him. 

All heads turned towards him, including that of the Queen. Convention and respect dictated that Tim immediately went to her and bowed as a sign of his respect, but for a second, he had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the subject that stood before her. 

It was Jason, still dressed in the jeans and leather jacket Tim had last seen him wearing, and he did not look happy to be here at all. There was a chain around his hands and feet. Tim’s heart began to pound. 

“Ah, Sir Timothy, how kind of you to join us,” the Queen was saying. “We were just discussing the sentence this changeling will receive for his crime.”

Tim was early, but it looked like the proceedings had already begun anyway. He couldn’t help but think that was by design. 

“What is his crime, your Majesty?” he asked carefully, though he could guess.

“He is charged with killing a pureblood of my Court, Anton Schott, Lord of Bitterstern.” She narrowed her eyes at Tim. “Do you deny it?” 

He couldn’t, but he also couldn’t just let this happen. “I deny it was a crime, your Majesty-“ 

“That is for me to decide,” she interrupted him harshly and looked around. “Are there any other objections from the Court?” 

Her advisor cleared his throat. “It is unusual for a Court to wield justice over a Cait Sidhe, changeling though he may be.” 

“He has no Queen or King of Cats to speak for him,” the Queen pointed out, “and he has interfered with my jurisdiction.” 

Tim stepped forward before he could think about it. “Then I will speak for him, or be sentenced with him. I helped.” 

For the first time, Jason looked surprised, his wide eyes disbelieving. The Queen, however, just chuckled. “And what does your liege say about that, Sir Timothy?” 

That Tim did not know either. He hadn’t even had time to talk with Bruce yet, so busy had he been returning the children where they belonged. 

Bruce stepped up next to him. He seldom spoke at Court, but when he did, everyone listened. “This changeling has saved my knight’s life, your Majesty, and returned a child to my fiefdom. I would be more than willing to accept him into my household.” He paused, then added, “I do not dispute your right to sentence him. I only ask you for mercy.” 

For a long moment, Tim could practically hear everyone in the throne room holding their breath. 

Richard was the first to move behind Bruce. That wasn’t a surprise. His friends followed him, though - the Lady Kori and her spouse, then Barbara Gordon, then Rachel Raven Roth, then Garfield “The Beast” Logan and Terra and Victor Stone. Damian was there, too. His friends were still too young for their presence to make much of an impact on the Queen, but their parents followed them. 

Then, Lord Kent moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Bruce. “I second this motion, my Queen.” Lady Diana stood beside him. Their entire household was there. The Green Lantern fiefdom was positioning themselves next to them, too. 

“As do I,” Lady Selina, half Cait Sidhe herself, offered. Tim hadn’t even seen her move. 

They had planned for this, Tim realised with a wave of gratefulness. They had guessed what the Queen was going to do, and they were here to support Jason. (And maybe Tim, too.) 

Seeing the support, other nobles were beginning to inch over to that side of the room, too. First of them were the families that been affected, but others, too. Allowing Anton to kidnap pureblood children unopposed hadn’t been a popular move. 

The group didn’t form a majority, not by any means, but it was enough to show the Queen that she would face significant resistance if she executed Jason. Tim didn’t think she could afford that politically. 

The Queen was not unreasonable. Too focused on the purity of blood, sure, but she was an astute politician who held on to her power by way of political acumen, not just the power of her bloodline. 

“Maybe I was a little hasty in my pronouncement, then,” the Queen admitted with a graceful smile. 

Tim did not relax. There were worse punishments than death for fae and changeling alike. 

“But I do not take infractions of my laws lightly. If anything, punishment is there to make sure it does not happen again. If you, Lord Wayne, agree to take this changeling into your household, then I will grant it - under the condition that Sir Timothy and he will work investigations for me until such a time as I deem their debt to the Court to be paid.” For some reason, she seemed to find the thought amusing. “They are such good detectives, after all.” 

“Thank you, my Queen.” Bruce bowed. Tim quickly followed suit, as did the rest of the Court. 

Jason’s shackles melted away. The Queen nodded and turned to her advisor. “Who is next?” 

They were dismissed. Tim quickly pressed Bruce’s elbow in thanks, then he grabbed a compliant Jason and hightailed it out of there.

They only looked at each other once they had reached the pier back in the human world. 

“The fuck? How,” Jason asked, “am I not dead?” 

“I think,” Tim mused, “that she thought she was punishing me, too.” 

“Making you work with a changeling? Yeah, I can see that,” Jason agreed and started chuckling. 

Tim joined in, though it wasn’t that funny. Soon, they were clutching their bellies with laughter.

It was mostly relief. The amount of time they would be beholden to the Queen was distressingly unspecific; Tim didn’t want to think about the kind of missions she could come up with if she were actually trying to have them killed behind everyone’s back, but. It was much, much better than anything he had been able to come up with on his way there. 

Abruptly, Jason stopped laughing and held out a hand for Tim to shake. “So. Partners?”

Jason looked a bit defiant as if he still expected Tim to reject his offer of friendship, but Tim didn’t hesitate. 

“Partners.” 

 

Even after that, it took Tim almost a year to realise he was in love with Jason. 

They worked so well together. Jason, it turned out, had an extensive network of informants. He could get into places and to places that Tim couldn’t because he attracted too much attention. It didn’t hurt that he could more than hold his own in a fight, wielding both his guns and his iron daggers with deadly precision and never pulling a punch. 

He was also fucking funny, and supportive and kind and lovely and everything Tim wanted. 

Too bad he didn’t want Tim. 

Not, that wasn’t fair. In two years, he’d become Tim’s partner in business and one of his closest friends. Jason showed him that he was wanted every day, he just didn’t want Tim _that way_. Tim didn’t want to rock this boat just because he’d been consciously pining for Jason for over a year now. 

Besides - Jason was ageing. Much more slowly than any human would, sure. But he was barely fae, and it showed. The wrinkles by his eyes were deepening already. The progression was so slow that a casual observer would never notice, but Tim’s eyes were keen and never stopped seeing things his brain didn’t like to process. Jason had to shave every morning, for Oberon’s sake. Time was passing for him in a way it wasn’t for Tim. 

Tim would have him for a few decades more. Maybe, if he was lucky and Jason didn’t get himself killed in the meantime, even a century or two, watching his changeling age and slowly, slowly die. Tim didn’t know he would survive that if they were lovers. He barely knew how to cope right now. 

At least he had plenty of cases to keep him busy and distracted. The Queen had grown to like having them as her pet investigators, seeing how they both operated independently from Court politics and had a staggering success rate to show for it. 

Just this afternoon a messenger had arrived, pointing them towards a crime scene. Tim had arrived first and was now staring down at the body. It was still untouched by the Nighthaunts and bleeding profusely from a head wound.

Looking up, he surveyed his surroundings. It was a human park with lots of bushes and trees. No humans out yet, and those that were ignored him completely. At least they couldn’t see the body with the illusion Tim had created to shield them. A headache from that piece of work was already throbbing in his temples, but he hadn’t seen another way to make it through the evening. 

He smiled when the familiar smell of cinnamon and oleander entered his nose. Seconds later, a strong arm wound around his waist in a hug. “Hey, Jason.” 

“Hi yourself. You’re looking fairly awake for this ungodly time.” 

Tim reluctantly freed himself and turned around to look at Jason, but he stopped with a sigh when he saw what the changeling was wearing. “Jason, you’re wearing a crop-top with a Lord of the Rings elf on it and no contact lenses.” 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Jason replied cheerfully, handing Tim a thermal flask that smelled delicious. 

“Mmmh,” Tim sighed appreciatively as he took his first sip. Humanity had many faults, but coffee wasn’t one of them. “At least tell me you drove here.” 

“Nope, took the bus. What do you think I am, rich? I can’t afford to have you scrap another car.” 

“That was one time! How, exactly, have you never been found out by a human?” 

“Oh, you know,” Jason lazily waved a hand. “Humans only see what they want to see. Their brains can’t process it.” 

“Speaking of brains…” 

Jason groaned. “That was a terrible transition, Tim.” But he did step closer to the body and took a look. “Wait. Did the Queen post a guard when she heard of the killing?” 

“There was no one here when I arrived.” 

“Yet the body is still fae.” 

“Not to mention bleeding profusely hours after being killed.” 

“So it’s a trap.” 

“Which is why I waited for you to arrive before I read his blood.” 

“Smart kid.” Jason held up his hand. 

“Still older than you,” Tim grumbled. He still gave Jason his high-five.

Then he walked back over to the corpse and knelt down, putting his head to the wound. At least he no longer needed to worry about how it looked to Jason. 

The blood tasted… empty. Like nothing. 

But the Nighthaunts hadn’t been here. It was impossible. Tim licked again at a different spot, hoping for a different result, but no. There were no memories left in this body. 

“Tim!” Jason yelled behind him. There was a thud. 

Adrenaline rushing through him, Tim jumped up and around just in time to see going down and a stranger reloading his crossbow across from behind the bushes. 

He grabbed the gun from Jason’s belt and fired at the man. There was a gurgled cry. Tim waited just long enough to confirm the guy was going down and no threat anymore before he turned back to his friend. 

“Jason!” he screamed when he saw the blood dripping out from the wound in the changeling’s shoulder. 

Jason smiled weakly at him, already pulling out the arrow out of himself. “Sorry, he… surprised…” 

“Don’t do that, idiot!” Tim chided him, helping him sit down on the ground gently. 

“There’s something on…” Jason passed out, the bolt falling to the ground. 

“Fuck!” Tim scrambled to look at the arrow. He could see a glistening white substance spread across it now. There was no doubt what it was. Jason had acted correctly in getting the bolt out of his body as quickly as possible, but it was too late. 

He was dying in front of Tim. 

If Jason only were fae, then he would survive this easily, but… 

Tim stilled. He could still save Jason if he was willing to make that call. All he had to was turn Jason into a pureblood.

There was no time to consider it. Jason was fading in front of him. Tim steeled himself and bend down to the wound, tasting the blood of the one person he’d hoped he never would. 

 

In the end, he still had to give Jason a choice. Oh yes, he could turn him without his consent, but - Tim wouldn’t do that. 

No, to be honest here: He would give Jason the choice, even if it wouldn’t be - couldn’t be - fully informed. If Jason chose faerie, then he would follow his wish. And if Jason picked humanity, Tim would find out just how committed he was to honouring Jason’s wishes over his own need to keep Jason alive and whole. 

It was the coward’s way out, Tim knew. Bruce would tell him so. 

Bruce wasn’t here, Tim was. And now there was Jason, too. 

He looked confused. “Tim? What’s-“ 

Before Jason could think about it too much, remember the blood, the bullet entering his chest, the elf-shot spreading - before either of them could think about that, Tim told him: “You have to make a choice, Jason. Human or fae.” 

As if prompted, two mirrors appeared. They both turned to look at them.

In one of them, Jason was beautiful. His cheekbones were much sharper, his eyes an alien colour. He looked otherworldly. Tim saw the white stripes in his dark hair and thought he finally knew just what Jason’s coat would look like when he turned. 

Then he looked at the other mirror and - that Jason was just as beautiful. His ears were fully rounded, his eyes a clear blue, his cheekbones round and dull and _human_ and he was beautiful. In a way, this beauty hurt Tim even more, because it was mortal. 

“That’s so strange," he heard Jason murmur. “Tim, why-“ 

Tim shook his head, still staring at the images. “No, Jason. Choose. We don’t have much time.” 

In truth, he thought that Jason would choose humanity. 

He’d always so stubbornly pointed out his status as a changeling, refusing to stand on ceremony with the pureblooded fae even if they punished him for it. Tim held no illusions about Jason’s love for the Summerlands or their Lords and Ladies. Of course, the Court of Shadows was quite apart from that, but Jason hadn’t been welcome there for a long time. Most of his friends were human or those other changelings that lived on the edges of their world and the fae one. 

Sure, he’d be more powerful, live longer, gain status, but Tim didn’t delude himself.

Nothing was keeping Jason tied to the fae but Tim, and that wouldn’t be enough. 

“I don’t like this choice,” Jason said. 

“Neither do I,” Tim admitted. “But it needs to be made.” 

He startled when Jason reached out a hand, cupping his cheek gently and making him look up at Jason’s eyes (not quite human, not quite fae - oh, he would miss them). 

Jason told him: “No, Tim. I trust you - you will have good reasons to ask me this, though we will have words about the fact that I can’t remember them right now. But I can’t make this choice. Either I lose myself, or I lose you, and either of these is unacceptable.” He leaned his forehead against the top of Tim’s head and exhaled. “So. Find a way, Tim.” 

Tim held Jason close and thought about it, aware all the time that the clock was ticking, that Jason’s body wouldn’t be able to wait for his decision much longer. 

“It’s dangerous,” he said. “And it will hurt.” 

Jason huffed a laugh. “When doesn’t it?” 

Tim took one last look at his face. No, not last look, he told himself. However that face would look once he was done, it would still be _Jason_ ’s, and that was the critical part here. Then he withdrew from Jason’s mind and bit down harder. 

He had a lot of work to do. 

He’d never done such extensive blood work before. It took everything out of him to concentrate, to not ride down any of the memory lines. Tim let every sight, sound, smell, feeling that Jason had ever experienced wash over him without processing it, instead concentrating on the traces of humanity and elf-shot in his blood, systematically burning them away. 

But he stopped himself before he had removed the last trace of humanity. It was difficult, almost impossible so - it left Jason so vulnerable to the poison, what if Tim hadn’t managed to remove all of it? Was he fae enough to survive? 

But Tim had promised, and he kept his promises. 

He pulled away, gasping for air. There were black spots of his eyes. Still he pressed his fingers down on the wound as hard as he could, because what was the point of burning away the elf-shot if Jason died of blood loss right after? 

His trembling hands barely managed a makeshift bandage. As he pulled it tight, Jason began to stir underneath him. 

“Tim?” Jason coughed. He sounded alarmed, which might have had to do with the fact Tim couldn’t hold himself up anymore, collapsing onto the ground beside him. “

Tim wanted to explain, but he thought there was something more important to be said first: “I love you.” 

He passed out before he heard Jason’s reply. 

 

When he woke up, Tim couldn’t move. Every muscle in his body hurt. Still, he didn’t panic, because he knew the smell that surrounded him intimately. 

After a few carefully executed deep breaths, he got his bearings. He was lying in Jason’s arms, or rather: half on top of him, cradled protectively to the shoulder that wasn’t injured. 

It took a lot of effort to lift his head and blink open his eyes. Oberon, his head hurt. 

“Shh,” Jason murmured, cupping his cheek to support him. “Don’t strain yourself. It’s okay, we’re at your place.” 

Tim’s eyes finally focused. 

Jason. Jason, smiling and warm and still a changeling, but most importantly: alive. 

“You jumped in the way of the arrow,” Tim whispered. “Don’t do that again.” 

Instead of an answer, Jason kissed him. It was quick and dry and Tim’s mouth probably tasted of stale blood so he didn’t open it, but it was still the best kiss he’d ever had. Followed by another. And another. 

Even when Jason stopped kissing him, he didn’t move away, just rubbed the side of his nose along Tim’s and whispered: “I love you, too. I just never thought…” 

Now it was Tim’s turn to kiss these self-deprecating words away. “Of course I do, Jason. Of course.” 

It took them a while to speak again, but finally, Jason carefully asked: “Want to talk about the other thing?” 

“No,” Tim answered honestly. He was sort of dreading it, to be honest. “But go ahead.”

“Changing someone’s blood isn’t a Daoine Sidhe thing.” 

“No,” Tim sighed. “It’s not.”

“So what, exactly, are you?” Jason asked. He was way calmer about this than Tim had expected. Maybe it was just the calm before the storm? Jason had kissed him, yes, told him he loved him, but… people had left Tim with less provocation. 

“I’m Dochas Sidhe,” he admitted. 

Jason stroked his back reassuringly as if he’d read Tim’s thoughts. “It’s okay. Really. I get why you didn’t tell me before. That sort of thing isn’t safe, even in faerie.”

“That’s not - I trust you with this,” Tim told him earnestly, “only, at first I wasn’t so sure and it was easier to just let you assume. And then…” 

“And then it just became too awkward to correct me,” Jason finished the sentence for him with a grin. 

Feeling slightly dizzy with relief and exhaustion, Tim hid his blush in Jason’s shoulder. “Yes, exactly. Still, I’m sorry. You deserved to be told.” 

He felt Jason just kissing his hair in answer.

They lapsed into comfortable silence, Tim happy to drowse in Jason’s arms. He smelled differently now - the cinnamon was sharper, the underlying scent of oleander more citrusy. Tim knew if he looked up and brushed away some unruly locks of hair, he would see that Jason’s ear was more pointed. 

Finally, Jason broke the quiet. “I’ve never heard of…” 

“Dochas Sidhe. Spelt D-O-C-H-A-S.”

“…Of Dochas Sidhe before.” 

“There aren’t many of us,” Tim explained. “Just my mother and me, I think, though I haven’t spoken to her in a few decades.” 

Jason grimaced. “So your mother is a Firstborn.” 

“Yes?” Tim wasn’t quite sure where Jason was going with this. 

“Your mother is a Firstborn and you let me rant about them for over a year.” 

Oh, _that_. “My mother fits every descriptor you ever used for them and more,” Tim laughed, “it was quite cathartic, to be honest.” 

“Okay, that settles it, I’m not ever meeting her. Sorry.” 

“I’m very alright with that.” As glad as he was about the levity, Tim had to ask: “You… don’t seem surprised.” 

“Tim, I’ve known you’re not Daoine Sidhe from the day we met,” Jason told him kindly. “I’ve been around what passes as a fae detective before, and no Daoine Sidhe can do what you do. Also, your illusions are _shit_ , I’ve known people with 1/16 of Daoine Sidhe blood who were better at them than you are. You’re not a child of Titania.” 

Tim kind of had to kiss him again for that. What could he say, Jason being smart about things was a thing for him. “No, my mother is just Oberon’s daughter, none of his queens involved,” he told him once he’d pulled away. 

Jason smirked. “That explains the ‘charging headfirst into danger’ thing.” 

“You’re one to talk!” Tim swatted at him. 

“Speaking of danger… So what was the stuff with the mirrors and shit?” 

“I’ve only ever done this once before, and it was by request,” Tim told him. “I couldn’t just do it without your input and you were out, so… I think I travelled to your unconscious the same way I can read memories in the blood.” 

“And gave me a second changeling’s choice.” 

Tim winced. “I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry.” 

“What if I had chosen human?” 

“The bolt was coated in elf-shot.” 

He watched Jason swallow. The other man knew as well as he did that the tincture, meant to sent purebloods to sleep for a decade or two, was deadly to changelings and humans. 

In order to be honest with Jason, he added: “ _If_ I had turned you human.” 

Jason’s gaze turned soft. “Tim… 

“I know.” He could barely stand to look at soft, trusting face, but he made himself face it. “That wouldn’t have been right, but I think you underestimate just how much I don’t want to lose you.” 

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Jason told him. “I did die once before, you know.” 

“…What.” Tim stared at him. 

“Cait Sidhe… it’s not widely known, but some of us - our Kings and Queens, usually - get more than one life. Cats, remember?” 

“Yes, but…” 

Jason laughed, though it didn’t sound amused. “Yeah, no idea how _that_ was the gift I got handed together with the claws and the Sight and not the, you know, more useful ones.” 

Tim almost didn’t want to ask. He couldn’t take one more image of Jason broken. But in the end, he was unable to not know, either. “How did you die?” 

“A sadistic fuck of a fae - Firstborn, as you might have guessed - killed me to get at someone else. Nothing to write home about, except I woke up the next day,” Jason told him. 

Tim would find out who it was, he swore to himself. He would find out who, find out if they were still alive, and then he would see whether that rumour about iron and silver being able to kill a Firstborn was true. 

For now, he had more important things to do, like kissing Jason’s neck and telling him: “You didn’t deserve that.” 

Jason exhaled against him but didn’t answer him directly. “I don’t think I could’ve done it again, to be honest. Maybe now I could, but. Didn’t think mostly-human changelings even get one extra life, let alone two. So what I’m saying is. Thank you. For not making me do that.” 

Tim felt the weight of his last two words sink into his chest, but there was no obligation here between the two, only the partnership they shared. “Thank _you_.” 

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.

Of course, Jason then just had to break the mood. “So who do you think hired that bastard that tried to kill me?” 

Tim grimaced. “I didn’t have time to read his blood. I assume the Nighthaunts took him before you could?” 

“I was in no condition to move another body, sorry.” 

“We’ll find them, anyway. Who knows,” Tim shrugged as well as he could with Jason’s arms around him, “maybe the Queen will even be on our side, for once. She was the one who sent us to investigate, after all.” 

“The Queen will not be happy about any of this. How are we gonna explain my recently acquired elf points?” 

Tim winced. “It might be possible to hide the shift, for both our sake’s. She’s, well.” 

“Never noticed me much when she isn’t trying to have me executed?” Jason finished for him. “True…. Oh, wait!” 

“Huh?” 

Jason concentrated for a moment. The smell of his magic washed over Tim, and then Jason looked back at Tim precisely the way he had before, mostly rounded ears and all. 

“Oh, right, you can do that now.” 

Jason looked at him very seriously. “Tim. You know what that means.” 

“You can maybe fool the Queen into not noticing the change in you as long as she never tries to figure out why you’re wearing a disguise?” 

“No. Tim. I’m now officially better at illusions than you.” 

Tim laughed and laughed, full of love for this ridiculous, stubborn changeling that had walked into his life two years ago and refused to leave, and kissed him again. 

He wouldn’t have him any other way, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it, my last entry for JasonTim week. Thank you so much to everyone who has commented, left kudos and liked my entries, and especially the mods for running this challenge.


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